Introduction
Special education over the last 25 years has been subject to major advances, not least in the development of inclusive education, and inclusion has become the new orthodoxy. âInclusionâ is a high-status buzzword that has acquired international currency within educational and social policy initiatives. To some it is an uncomplicated concept: a bedrock to equality in learning communities where all pupils are welcomed and valued by all people, at all times for all that they do. It is important to recognise, though, that whilst inclusion might have a commonly accepted theory, its operation has varied at differing times and in different contexts. In theory, inclusion might appear straightforward, but in the harsh reality of educational practice it is not an uncomplicated ideological construct. The question that has come to dominate educational discourse and praxis is what is this âinclusionâ of which we all speak?
This chapter analyses the âpolitico-philosophicalâ and âco-construction of contemporary meaning and valuesâ that ground the term âinclusionâ. Dictionary definitions are employed to provide a theoretical lens for the analysis of inclusion policy and its associated discourse. We aim to reframe inclusion with its associated âexpertismâ and to disrupt the âdecidability within textsâ that have plagued attempts to operationalise inclusive education (Allan, 2008: 71).
Before you commence reading the next section, consider how you would define inclusion and inclusive education. What children and young adults would or indeed should be included in mainstream classrooms? At the end of this chapter, you may wish to revisit your definitions. You will need to employ your definition of inclusion to fulfil the task laid out in Chapter 7 of this book.
Definitions of âinclusion'
Let us commence with the Oxford English Dictionary. It observes inclusion operating within a triumvirate of meaning (Hodkinson, 2012). First, it may be employed as a singular noun, the object in a sentence. Here the object, a person or thing, is included into an environment. For example, âthe pastel study of a little boy was included as an exhibition in an art galleryâ. Second, inclusion may be the noun of the Many. In such formulations, it is the process of including or of being included within and by the group. Third, inclusion may be defined as a geological composite. In this formulation, distinct and distinctive particles become incorporated within an amalgam of rock. These three types of meaning place inclusion upon a continuum, blurring the distinction between object and process. Being inclusive âforcesâ the location and participation of the chosen one; in becoming inclusive, the Many control a process of inclusion, and to have become inclusive involves the symbiotic relationship between the individual identity of the included and those who seek to include. Through these characterisations, it will be demonstrated how inclusion can be distilled down to an essence of the control and of controlling individual identity in schools.
Inclusion as a singular noun
In the Green Paper Excellence for All (DfEE, 1997: 44), the UK government defined inclusion as:
[seeing] more pupils with SEN included in mainstream primary and secondary schools ⌠For example, we believe, that ⌠children with SEN should generally take part in mainstream lessons rather than being isolated in separate units.
And in India:
all learners, young people â with or without disabilities being able to learn together in ordinary pre-school provision, schools and community educational settings with appropriate networks of support services.
(NCERT, 2006: 4)
From the late 1990s, educationalists have employed statements, such as the ones above, with an almost missionary zeal to demonstrate how governments worldwide had accepted the new orthodoxy of inclusive education. We must, though, be circumspect, noting perhaps the employment of phrases such as âseeing more pupilsâ, âgenerally take part inâ and âappropriate networks of supportâ and question these governmentsâ theory of inclusion. Indeed, we might first argue that these texts reveal a reality where government did not want all children to be educated together, but rather equality could only operate if âappropriateâ systems and processes were in place. In addition, if we examined other definitions of inclusion from this period â for example, those which require that all pupils in a school âregardless of their weaknesses or disabilities should become part of the school communityâ (Judge, 2003: 163) â we might question whether inclusion policy was built upon the bedrock of equality at all.
What these definitions highlight is the categorisations and language of medical deficit. We might suggest that definitions employing âlanguage and categorisationsâ shackle an individualâs inclusion to entrenched societal attitudes. For example, take societyâs employment of the words âweaknessâ and âdisabilityâ. In the context of the disability rights movement, the application of these words is both patronising and degrading to the very pupils governments were seeking to include. The employment of such terminology reveals a conceptual naivety in its operation of inclusive education.
To illustrate the point, consider this word, âweaknessâ. Imagine, if you will, the current Prime Minister, David Cameron, in a room with Professor Stephen Hawking and asked to discuss the merits of quantum physics; who then would display a weakness? This word, like âdisabilityâ, is subjective and bound within hierarchical societal notions of normality. Inclusion located within these literacy frameworks is culturally loaded (Hodkinson, 2015).
To further the analysis, note this comment from a teacher in a supposed âinclusive schoolâ:
Sometimes it is difficult to include; children cannot always access, especially children in the learning centre here. They are not always ready to access mainstream but we always try to access areas where they can â like the assembly. They might go out for a lesson you know they are particularly good at or interested in where they can, what they can cope with and ⌠so we do seek to put them you know in the mainstream wherever possible.
Or this comment from another teacher:
They [children labelled as SEND] have full inclusion for assemblies, playtimes and dinners so they are very much part of the school.
These comments reveal the control mechanism and object of the singular noun: teachers decide who can and who cannot be included. Interestingly, research demonstrates that, despite little or no training in special educational needs and/or disability (SEND), teachers have the responsibility for deciding who can and who cannot be included in mainstream classrooms (Hodkinson, 2009).
In this formulation, inclusion empowers decidability over definition and dominance over subordination. We might also observe how it invests power in those who are to include and how it removes power from those who are to be included. In line with art critics, this picture of inclusive practice reveals the empowerment of the âGrand Mastersâ to become judge and jury as inclusion policy leads inclusive education to be but a gallery of the âbestâ exhibits. Children in this characterisation are reformed as commodities, scrutinised through professionalsâ notions of societal good taste. Notions of sensibility and conformity override childrenâs rights and social justice.
Reconsider the definition of inclusion you formulated at the outset of this chapter. Carefully consider if inclusion and inclusive education should be solely controlled by teachers and educational professionals. Should inclusion only exist for those children who teachers decide are capable of being âsuccessfulâ in mainstream classrooms?
Inclusion as a noun of the Many
Where all children are included as equal partners in the school community the benefits are felt by all. That is why we are committed to comprehensive and enforceable civil rights for disabled people. Our aspirations as a nation must be for all our people.
(DfEE, 1997: 5)
The participation of all pupils in the curriculum and social life of mainstream schools; the participation of all pupils in learning which leads to the highest possible level of achievement; and the participation of young people in the full range of social experiences and opportunities once they have left school.
(DfEE, 1998: 23)
Inclusion in the above statements is enshrined within the principles of social justice. Phrases such as âjoin fullyâ, âtake partâ, âequal partnersâ, âenforceable civil rightsâ, âall pupilsâ and âparticipationâ create an image of an inclusion process which truly values and welcomes all into mainstream schools. However, we should pause here to reconsider these definitions and analyse how they represent inclusion as mediation. In examining the first definition closely, another elusive and more âslipperyâ definition materialises. The employment of phrases such as âwherever possibleâ (p. 6) and other words employed elsewhere in government discourse, such as a âneighbourhood of schoolsâ, suggests that the process of inclusion was always intended to pursue a âtwin-track systemâ where segregation of some pupils in special schools was acceptable. Pupils were to be placed there but not allowed here, present in an inclusive process but absent from mainstream classrooms. In this becoming, inclusion, we suggest, is nothing more than spectacle: process over person. It could not be described as equality because the Many control a process of location and subordination of individual identity. In the second quote, inclusion is defined as a right to be extended to all children. This statement, though, seems at odds with the first, where any form of âexclusionâ is deemed morally indefensible. Inclusion here seemingly is not a right but becomes a duty. The pupilâs duty is to participate. This form of participation makes inclusion an obligation and not a right. Ĺ˝iĹžekâs (2009) notion of a âparadox of forced choiceâ is useful to underpin this analysis. Inclusion...